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_ A preface generally begins with a truism; and I may set out with the
admission that it is not always expedient to bring to light the
posthumous work of great writers. A man generally contrives to publish,
during his lifetime, quite as much as the public has time or
inclination to read; and his surviving friends are apt to show more
zeal than discretion in dragging forth from his closed desk such
undeveloped offspring of his mind as he himself had left to silence.
Literature has never been redundant with authors who sincerely
undervalue their own productions; and the sagacious critics who
maintain that what of his own an author condemns must be doubly
damnable, are, to say the least of it, as often likely to be right as
wrong.
Beyond these general remarks, however, it does not seem necessary to
adopt an apologetic attitude. There is nothing in the present volume
which any one possessed of brains and cultivation will not be thankful
to read. The appreciation of Nathaniel Hawthorne's writings is more
intelligent and wide-spread than it used to be; and the later
development of our national literature has not, perhaps, so entirely
exhausted our resources of admiration as to leave no welcome for even
the less elaborate work of a contemporary of Dickens and Thackeray. As
regards "Doctor Grimshawe's Secret,"--the title which, for lack of a
better, has been given to this Romance,--it can scarcely be pronounced
deficient in either elaboration or profundity. Had Mr. Hawthorne
written out the story in every part to its full dimensions, it could
not have failed to rank among the greatest of his productions. He had
looked forward to it as to the crowning achievement of his literary
career. In the Preface to "Our Old Home" he alludes to it as a work
into which he proposed to convey more of various modes of truth than he
could have grasped by a direct effort. But circumstances prevented him
from perfecting the design which had been before his mind for seven
years, and upon the shaping of which he bestowed more thought and labor
than upon anything else he had undertaken. The successive and
consecutive series of notes or studies [Footnote: These studies,
extracts from which will be published in one of our magazines, are
hereafter to be added, in their complete form, to the Appendix of this
volume.] which he wrote for this Romance would of themselves make a
small volume, and one of autobiographical as well as literary interest.
There is no other instance, that I happen to have met with, in which a
writer's thought reflects itself upon paper so immediately and
sensitively as in these studies. To read them is to look into the man's
mind, and see its quality and action. The penetration, the subtlety,
the tenacity; the stubborn gripe which he lays upon his subject, like
that of Hercules upon the slippery Old Man of the Sea; the clear and
cool common-sense, controlling the audacity of a rich and ardent
imagination; the humorous gibes and strange expletives wherewith he
ridicules, to himself, his own failure to reach his goal; the immense
patience with which--again and again, and yet again--he "tries back,"
throwing the topic into fresh attitudes, and searching it to the marrow
with a gaze so piercing as to be terrible;--all this gives an
impression of power, of resource, of energy, of mastery, that
exhilarates the reader. So many inspired prophets of Hawthorne have
arisen of late, that the present writer, whose relation to the great
Romancer is a filial one merely, may be excused for feeling some
embarrassment in submitting his own uninstructed judgments to
competition with theirs. It has occurred to him, however, that these
undress rehearsals of the author of "The Scarlet Letter" might afford
entertaining and even profitable reading to the later generation of
writers whose pleasant fortune it is to charm one another and the
public. It would appear that this author, in his preparatory work at
least, has ventured in some manner to disregard the modern canons which
debar writers from betraying towards their creations any warmer feeling
than a cultured and critical indifference: nor was his interest in
human nature such as to confine him to the dissection of the moral
epidermis of shop-girls and hotel-boarders. On the contrary, we are
presented with the spectacle of a Titan, baring his arms and plunging
heart and soul into the arena, there to struggle for death or victory
with the superb phantoms summoned to the conflict by his own genius.
The men of new times and new conditions will achieve their triumphs in
new ways; but it may still be worth while to consider the methods and
materials of one who also, in his own fashion, won and wore the laurel
of those who know and can portray the human heart.
But let us return to the Romance, in whose clear though shadowy
atmosphere the thunders and throes of the preparatory struggle are
inaudible and invisible, save as they are implied in the fineness of
substance and beauty of form of the artistic structure. The story is
divided into two parts, the scene of the first being laid in America;
that of the second, in England. Internal evidence of various kinds goes
to show that the second part was the first written; or, in other words,
that the present first part is a rewriting of an original first part,
afterwards discarded, and of which the existing second part is the
continuation. The two parts overlap, and it shall be left to the
ingenuity of critics to detect the precise point of junction. In
rewriting the first part, the author made sundry minor alterations in
the plot and characters of the story, which alterations were not
carried into the second part. It results from this that the manuscript
presents various apparent inconsistencies. In transcribing the work for
the press, these inconsistent sentences and passages have been
withdrawn from the text and inserted in the Appendix; or, in a few
unimportant instances, omitted altogether. In other respects, the text
is printed as the author left it, with the exception of the names of
the characters. In the manuscript each personage figures in the course
of the narrative under from three to six different names. This
difficulty has been met by bestowing upon each of the _dramatis
persona_ the name which last identified him to the author's mind,
and keeping him to it throughout the volume.
The story, as a story, is complete as it stands; it has a beginning, a
middle, and an end. There is no break in the narrative, and the
legitimate conclusion is reached. To say that the story is complete as
a work of art, would be quite another matter. It lacks balance and
proportion. Some characters and incidents are portrayed with minute
elaboration; others, perhaps not less important, are merely sketched in
outline. Beyond a doubt it was the author's purpose to rewrite the
entire work from the first page to the last, enlarging it, deepening
it, adorning it with every kind of spiritual and physical beauty, and
rounding out a moral worthy of the noble materials. But these last
transfiguring touches to Aladdin's Tower were never to be given; and he
has departed, taking with him his Wonderful Lamp. Nevertheless there is
great splendor in the structure as we behold it. The character of old
Doctor Grimshawe, and the picture of his surroundings, are hardly
surpassed in vigor by anything their author has produced; and the dusky
vision of the secret chamber, which sends a mysterious shiver through
the tale, seems to be unique even in Hawthorne.
There have been included in this volume photographic reproductions of
certain pages of the original manuscript of Doctor Grimshawe, selected
at random, upon which those ingenious persons whose convictions are in
advance of their instruction are cordially invited to try their teeth;
for it has been maintained that Mr. Hawthorne's handwriting was
singularly legible. The present writer possesses specimens of Mr.
Hawthorne's chirography at various ages, from boyhood until a day or
two before his death. Like the handwriting of most men, it was at its
best between the twenty-fifth and the fortieth years of life; and in
some instances it is a remarkably beautiful type of penmanship. But as
time went on it deteriorated, and, while of course retaining its
elementary characteristics, it became less and less easy to read,
especially in those writings which were intended solely for his own
perusal. As with other men of sensitive organization, the mood of the
hour, a good or a bad pen, a ready or an obstructed flow of thought,
would all be reflected in the formation of the written letters and
words. In the manuscript of the fragmentary sketch which has just been
published in a magazine, which is written in an ordinary commonplace-
book, with ruled pages, and in which the author had not yet become
possessed with the spirit of the story and characters, the handwriting
is deliberate and clear. In the manuscript of "Doctor Grimshawe's
Secret," on the other hand, which was written almost immediately after
the other, but on unruled paper, and when the writer's imagination was
warm and eager, the chirography is for the most part a compact mass of
minute cramped hieroglyphics, hardly to be deciphered save by flashes
of inspiration. The matter is not, in itself, of importance, and is
alluded to here only as having been brought forward in connection with
other insinuations, with the notice of which it seems unnecessary to
soil these pages. Indeed, were I otherwise disposed, Doctor Grimshawe
himself would take the words out of my mouth; his speech is far more
poignant and eloquent than mine. In dismissing this episode, I will
take the liberty to observe that it appears to indicate a spirit in our
age less sceptical than is commonly supposed,--belief in miracles being
still possible, provided only the miracle be a scandalous one.
It remains to tell how this Romance came to be published. It came into
my possession (in the ordinary course of events) about eight years ago.
I had at that time no intention of publishing it; and when, soon after,
I left England to travel on the Continent, the manuscript, together
with the bulk of my library, was packed and stored at a London
repository, and was not again seen by me until last summer, when I
unpacked it in this city. I then finished the perusal of it, and,
finding it to be practically complete, I re-resolved to print it in
connection with a biography of Mr. Hawthorne which I had in
preparation. But upon further consideration it was decided to publish
the Romance separately; and I herewith present it to the public, with
my best wishes for their edification.
JULIAN HAWTHORNE.
NEW YORK, November 21, 1882.
DOCTOR GRIMSHAWE'S SECRET _
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